ot speak, sir!" I exclaimed, seizing the hand of the incumbent in
the wildness of my joy. "I am stupified by this intelligence! Trust me,
sir--believe me, you shall find me not undeserving of your generosity
and"----

"No, Stukely. Call it not by such a name. It is any thing but that;
there is no liberality, no nobility of soul, in giving you what I may
not now withhold. I cannot see her droop and die, and live myself to
know that a word from me had saved her. I have given my consent to the
prosecution of your attachment at the latest moment--not because I
wished it, but to prevent a greater evil. I have told you the truth! It
was due to us both that you should hear it; for the future look upon me
as your father, and I will endeavour to do you justice."

There was a stop. I was so oppressed with a sense of happiness, that I
could find no voice to speak my joy or tell my thanks. Mr Fairman
paused, and then continued.

"You will come to the parsonage to-morrow, and take part again in the
instruction of the lads after their return. You will be received as my
daughter's suitor. Arrangements will be made for a provision for you.
Mayhew and I have it in consideration now. When our plan is matured, it
shall be communicated to you. There need be no haste. You are both
young--too young for marriage--and we shall not yet fix the period of
your espousal."

My mind was overpowered with a host of dazzling visions, which rose
spontaneously as the minister proceeded in his delightful talk. I soon
lost all power of listening to details. The beloved Ellen, the faithful
and confiding maiden, who had not deserted the wanderer although driven
from her father's doors--she, the beautiful and priceless jewel of my
heart, was present in every thought, and was the ornament and chief of
every group that passed before my warm imagination. Whilst the incumbent
continued to speak of the future, of his own sacrifice, and my great
gain--whilst his words, without penetrating, touched my ears, and died
away--my soul grew busy in the contemplation of the prize, which, now
that it was mine, I scarce knew how to estimate. Where was she _then_?
How had she been? To how many days of suffering and of trial may she
have been doomed? How many pangs may have wrung that noble heart before
its sad complaints were listened to, and mercifully answered? I craved
to be at her side. The words which her father had spoken had loosened
the heavy chain that tied me do